


When You Thought I Was Sleeping

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Crying, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Distna, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Tumblr Prompt, some implied suicidal ideation, this summary is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 23:22:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Wes and Hobbie are reunited after Distna.





	When You Thought I Was Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> For an anon Tumblr prompt: "Wes/Hobbie, things you said when you thought I was asleep."

The quarantine finally, finally ends, and Wes is the first one through the door. At long last he's no longer alone, he's back among his squadmates and friends, and it feels _so good_ as they all rush forward to greet him. He pulls Wedge into a hug first, pretending he doesn't see the commander's happy tears as he grips back tightly. Then it's Tycho, firm hands thumping on Wes's back as he crows how happy he is to see him.

Hobbie stands behind the others, a little sheepish. Wes can barely contain himself as he steps between Wedge and Tycho and into his arms. He couldn't have gone to him first, as much as he wanted to, because he'd known he wouldn't be able to leave again. He can't leave, not when he has Hobbie warm and safe and _alive_ , surrounding him and murmuring words of love and relief against his hair. Wes squeezes him back, suddenly too choked to speak.

Behind him, the others are moving away, probably shepherded by Wedge and Tycho, wonderful friends that they are.

Wes doesn't know how long he stands there with his face pressed into Hobbie's neck, just breathing him in, feeling Hobbie's chest move as he breathes in turn. He should kiss him, Wes realizes dimly after awhile. Two weeks of talking through a transparisteel wall, desperate to touch, and now here they are and he can't move. He should kiss him, he should move, he should–

“Let's sit down,” Hobbie murmurs, and he tugs Wes to a sofa set off to one side of the room. They do, so close together still, warm all up along each other's sides.

Finally, Wes leans in a kisses him. “I love you _so_ _much_ ,” he says when he pulls back, just looking into Hobbie's brown eyes, and he's never had a problem saying the words, but there've been few times he meant them so much.

Hobbie's lips curve into a soft smile as his hand comes up to cup Wes's neck. “I love you, too.”

Wes arches into the touch like a plant to sunlight. He has to keep telling himself this is real. Hobbie is alive, everyone is alive, they're all _here_.

“Hey,” Hobbie says softly. He touches Wes's cheek, gently skimming away a tear he hadn't realized had fallen.

“I...” Wes doesn't even know what to say. How to begin to describe what he'd felt when he thought they had left him alone, how defeated, how purposeless? How he didn't want to live.

“Let's go somewhere more private, okay?” Hobbie suggests, and Wes nods soundlessly, because that he can do.

Hobbie leads him back to his room, and the moment the door closes behind him, they're stripping each other. This is easy, this is familiar. They make love, hard and desperate, and Wes thinks they're both trying to make up for all those times they thought they'd never have. Then, when they've recovered and the edge is off, they go again, soft, gentle, tender, Wes choking on tears as Hobbie whispers his love and relief and devotion against his skin.

Later, when they've finished, they lay together. Wes is spooned up behind Hobbie, holding him close, as Hobbie threads their fingers together and keeps turning his head for more light kisses. Finally, he drifts off to sleep after one more mumbled, “Love you, 'es.”

Wes squeezes his eyes closed, pressing his forehead against the back of his partner's neck. He can't cry anymore, he tells himself. That's over, it was pointless, none of that grief was ever real. And yet he can feel it clawing at the back of his throat, as if somehow this miracle is going to be snatched away from him again.

He tightens his arms. “Love you, too, Hobbie,” he murmurs, though he knows he can't hear him. “Gods, just, so much. I thought I was never going to get to tell you that again, you know? You guys were all gone, and I–” He lets out a trembling breath. “I wanted to be with you,” he whispers. “I didn't want to go on alone. If you hadn't come back when you did–”

Hobbie shifts in his arms, and Wes jolts. Kriff, maybe he wasn't fully asleep after all. And, yes, Hobbie is turning over, looking at him with those big brown eyes that say so much. Wes averts his gaze.

“Hobbie–” Wes begins, trying to explain himself, but Hobbie lays a finger across his lips to silence him.

“I understand,” he says softly. “I understand, Wes.”

And Wes can see that he does. He takes a shaky breath, nods, presses as close to Hobbie as he can, buries himself in his embrace.

“I've got you,” Hobbie promises. “I'm still here. Tycho and Wedge and the others, too. You're not alone. You never will be.”

Wes can only nods, tears leaking out again.

“Sleep,” Hobbie tells him, running a hand through his hair. “I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”


End file.
